


X's Are for Romance, Ampersands Are for Friendship

by Kittycattycat



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Awkwardness, Canon Non-Binary Character, Fluff, Friendship, Nonbinary Character, Other, POV Second Person, This was going to be multichapter but I'm tired and this is prolly it lads, whatever the term for "you make me uneasy but I guess we're friends now and oh shit we're dating" is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 06:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16676809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittycattycat/pseuds/Kittycattycat
Summary: Your name is Cirava Hermod, and you're currently on a long-ass roadtrip to get to Zebede Tongva’s house.





	X's Are for Romance, Ampersands Are for Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's a weird ship, but consider,,,,,,, I like it.

Your name is Cirava Hermod, and ngl you're totally not hype for this rn.

So you're in the scuttlebuggy, right? On your palmhusk, fiddling with your apps and checking your various social media accounts and scrolling through your photo gallery to clean it out and delete the pics you don't want or need anymore. On the way to someone's house. Someone who you hardly know, who lives three fucking hours away in the middle of fuck-all nowhere, and also who makes you very, VERY uncomfortable.

So yeah, your name is Cirava Hermod, and you're currently on a long-ass roadtrip to get to Zebede Tongva’s house.

The kid texted you up first, making his digital approach without giving you much of an exit or room to back out sans flat-out ignoring him. It was kind of a dick move on his part if you're honest, but he seemed really anxious and excited and really you're not one to whine too much and be picky about how people talk to you. Well, that's sorta a lie lmao. But you were (and still are) trying to get new friends, so you decided it was probably best to ignore the way his overwhelming enthusiasm made you cringe back away from your palmhusk screen. 

You were three seconds from cracking and telling him to go shove his bulge straight up his own wastechute when he mentioned your new friend, and from the way it sounds they may or may not have given zZz_BUZZING_zZz your chat handle and a few traces of your personal information on purpose. You know your pal had mentioned that this guy was actually pretty nice and real cool once you get to know him, but you’d definitely made sure to tell them that you really weren't up to becoming friends with the same person who wrote creepy fanfic about you without your consent. I mean, it wouldn't have REALLY been better if you'd told him he could? But still. It's kinda the thought that counts. Like, almost. You guess. Maybe.

Hmm.

Long story short, to shut him up and to appease your friend, you finally agreed to take a trip down to Zebede’s hive to chill with him. You like, super totally don't own a scuttlebuggy, so you borrowed your lil alien friend’s (how did he even get that thing?) for the drive. Man, your bro is so fucking chill. Especially when they're at your hive with you, sittin’ on the loungeplank and takin’ breath after breath out of your sweet, sweet vape rig. Truly the chillest. They’re like, the chillmaster or something. 

‘Chillmaster.’ You should make that a song title. A chill beats song exclusively dedicated to your best (and quite frankly, only) bro. Hell yeah. 

This guy, though, Zebede? Doesn't seem very chill at all. No music for him.

But your best alien buddy told you he's just lonely, and advised you to give it a shot with him. And you trust your bro, you really, really do— you guys are close as two trolls in the same green spherical unit oblong pod— but this guy gives you some seriously bad vibes. I mean, it’s mostly the fanfic thing. Shit’s hella weird. What if he wants you to like, act it out or something? You're pretty sure you’ll kick him over and make a break for the door asap. He's pretty short, right? You could prolly stick him up on top of his own hunger trunk and he'd get stuck up there lmao.

But like, on the off-chance that he's just a normal dude (ha) who just happens to have some weird, creepy, smutty hobbies— maybe you really can strike up a friendship?

Your alien bro was very much for the friendship, but you definitely weren't (and still aren't, really.) Even so, they assured you. Worst-case scenario, you leave his hive, block him on all the social media platforms you possibly can, and never speak to him ever again. That's all.

And somehow, that form of convincing managed to land you here. Damn them and their conniving, alien trickster ways. Lmao, jk. (Still though you're pretty sure this is gonna absolutely blow.)

You're not sure exactly how you spend those three hours trapped in the buggy all by yourself. You SHOULD remember, logically, but you're pretty sure you zoned out halfway through the ride while you lied around in the backseat. Or hey, maybe you just derealized really really fucking hard. Probably the latter. You really should get on some fuckin’ meds or somethin’— maybe you should hit up that cobalt guy you met on the web and get him to reroute a delivery drone and get you some random-ass highblood’s meds. Prolly not though, because either via the meds or the highblood, you feel like that’d fuck you up hardcore. Can highbloods even GET meds? Or are they culled for mental shit like everybody else? Maybe neither, and they're just left to their own devices. Makes the most sense. Maybe not morally, but in general. Damn, your society is hella fucked.

Aaaanyways, you're at the lil guy’s hive now. It's actually pretty fuckin’ big for a lowblood, but not so large that it's jarring or anything. You notice that it's loud with the constant buzzing and droning of bees literally everywhere. Damn, this kid’s hobby must be important to him. That's fair, you guess. Raising bees ‘n’ stuff don't sound too bad you guess, but it's definitely nothing you’d ever wanna do. Your rather stick with your internet career of making chill beats and rad moisturwave aesthetics pics.

The front door whips open as soon as your buggy comes to a stop near the place and Zebede pokes his head out, like he's been watching your car come up the hill from one of his windows so he could greet you at precisely the right time. Weird. It makes your skin prickle with discomfort, and you're for real considering pulling out your phone to text your bud that maybe this was an even worse idea than you'd previously thought it could be.

He steps outside of the door frame fully and your eyebrows raise. Ngl, he's kinda adorable. Cuter than you'd imagined him being. He's excited enough that he's bouncing back and forth from foot to foot on his heels and he's got his hands clenched tightly into small chubby fists at both his sides. Not to mention that he's grinning at you like there no tomorrow. He gives you the distinct impression of a tamed barkbeast running and scampering around underfoot with its tail wagging happily at you. Lowkey though his clothes look like hot garbage lmao, but hey, if you actually befriend this fuckin’ weirdo maybe you can do somethin’ about that.

“Oh gosh, wow! I can't believe you actually came! I wasn't sure you would at all!” You weren't either. “I've been such a huge fan of yours for such a long time, I— o-oh, right, you're probably tired from the trip! Wanna come inside?”

You blink at him for a sec, squinting at him with your one remaining eye in a way that probably makes it seem like you're either really suspicious (your intent) or you're partially blind (not your intent, but also not wrong?) He's still pretty hype from the looks of it, but he also seems a little nervous and hesitant now, like the full gravity of the situation just made him plummet down to the ground from a few meters up.

Eventually, you shrug nonchalantly. “Sure my guy. Lead the way.”

He nods rapidly and does as such, meandering down the rather narrow hall that leads to what you're assuming is going to be his living room. At least, you HOPE it's gonna be his living room. You're not totally sure you'd be comfy going into this guy’s bedroom alone with just the two of you. You're still very much on high-alert, yanno? That's not like, unexpected or harsh, is it?

His hive, you notice immediately, is very yellow. Like, honey-yellow. Orange-yellow? Goldish yellow? Is there a term for the color? But whatever lmao. It’s pretty damn yellow. Like yeah, you get that he's a goldblood and also his whole motif aesthetic deal is bees and beehives and honey and that sort of shit, but really though? Even most of the windows are made in honeycomb patterns. You get that it's HIS hive or whatever, HIS decor, but still. Yikes dude. Got any other hobbies? (You suppose he does, considering the fanfic, but you decidedly push that from your mind. You're trying to make this friendship work, remember?)

The flower arrangements in blue and purple catch your eye— they sorta have to, being some of the only non-yellow things in the entire place as far as you can tell— but even they allude back to his bee thing. Is this guy like… okay? You see the bookshelf, and notice a few titles that sound like fiction books, but some of them are beekeeping books too! Jesus fuckin’ christ. You're almost starting to feel bad. Aren't your hive and decor really supposed to tell about yourself? You know your bud mentioned him not having friends, but is he really so absolutely isolated that beekeeping’s all this dude’s got to cling to? You're really making yourself feel bad now, and that's not fun for anyone. Damn.

Just as you're about to somehow find a way to break the uncomfortable-ass silence only vaguely filled by the annoyingly loud buzzing sound still going on, you both finally get to his living room (thank god). There's a huge TV affixed to the wall, hanging above a dark grey cabinet filled with a bunch of hexagonal (duh) CDs and old dusty box-tapes, plus a few untouched jars of homemade honey just sitting around beside them.

Zebede plops himself down his his bee-themed (wow) couch, and makes a gesture for you to sit down on the other end, throwing out some polite-but-flat platitudes about his hive being your hive too. It's not very big (the couch, you mean,) and he doesn't seem to be at all trying to distance himself from where he's wanting you to sit, but it'd be real fucking rude if you sat on his coffee table or on the fuckin’ floor or something, so you take the seat on his dumb tacky couch and oh shit, wow, you kinda didn't realize how tired you actually were until now. Why are car drives so exhausting even though you aren't doing jack shit? One of life's great mysteries you guess. Again though, you might not like this guy but you're not a COMPLETE dick, you're not just gonna go to fuckin’ sleep because you just got to his hive and you're sitting on HIS couch. 

The kid clearly has no idea what to do now, smiling uncomfortably and twiddling his thumbs on his lap. You almost want to make a sarcastic-ass joke and ask him if he wants to play share-a-square, but you're a little afraid he'd absolutely take your offer seriously, and you are NOT prepared for that level of discomfort in a conversation. Like, he's kinda cute you guess, with his giant dorky grin and his cute squishy cheeks and his big bright eyes, but you're super not down to mash faces. Or shooshpap him for that matter. As pitiable as Zebede may be, he somehow makes you feel like he'd be an awfully shitty quadmate. 

You're considering throwing him a bone and finding something to talk about when he takes the initiative, “Was the drive okay? No trouble? I know I live in a pretty weird place, it's hard to find sometimes I've heard…”

Okay, well, that's something. You mean, you were asleep and half-dazed the whole ride, but you're gonna try and give some details so you can maybe apply some conversational CPR as well.

“Yeah it was alright I guess. I mean I was pretty sleepy most of the ride, but I just chilled out and texted some homies.”

Zebede’s eyebrows draw together and you notice that one corner of his mouth is twitching downward. Shit, what'd you even say? Like, you get that you're not the most eloquent when it comes to speech or etiquette, but for real though? This fast? The dude apparently notices your noticing of him and immediately tries to change his tone and expression, “That sounds good! Travels to Outglut from here are really boring for me— honestly the only interesting thing that's ever happened to me on a car trip is seeing a weird ‘honk if you love the mirthful messiah’ bumper sticker once on the back of some purpleblood’s tiny clown car.

A small and unwarranted crooked grin pulls at the edges of your mouth, “Yeah, I seen those! The ones with the text that's real crammed together onto those stickers that are waaaay to fuckin’ small lmao? Like, you can't read ‘ em but you know what they're supposed to say because there's a crap ton of rainbow blood splatters all around the letters?”

“Yeah! Yeah!” he’s laughing, and you're not sure why because you weren't trying to make a joke and tbh what you said wasn't very funny at all, but you're laughing a little too, so it's okay, “Don’t forget the shitty JPEG pic of a clown horn!”

“Aaaah, who could ever forget the clown horn? Lmao.”

Maybe it's a product of how early it is now, the blazing sun beginning to creep over the horizon, and how tired you are, or maybe it's something in the air, but as you chuckle through a few more half-baked remarks about those dumbass juggalo bumper stickers you feel like you could be real good pals with this lil’ guy. 

“You got another ‘coop in your hive, dude?” you ask after another few jokes and wisecracks, “I'm livin’ for all this laughter ‘n’ stuff but it's also gettin’ pretty early? And that trip kinda wore me out lmao.”

The smile slowly slips off of Zebede’s face, and that's your first inkling that something is about to go very wrong.

“I mean, uh…” he says, sitting stiffly and looking off to the side of you, “I'm just a lowblood, yanno? Haha. And not…not even a really famous or cool one like you, so I, uh…I only got the one?”

You're silent.

“B-But don't worry!” he continues with frantic hand motions, “You can just use it, and I'll sleep on the couch! It'll be totally okay! Swear it!”

He says that, but the look on his face says otherwise.

“…I can just sleep on the loungeplank,” you shrug, even though that sounds pretty fuckin’ horrible and you definitely don't wanna do that. Really, you're not even sure if you CAN. 

“But… there's no sopor slime in that plank,” he fidgets. You say that it doesn't matter, that sopor slime hardly helps you anymore anyways. Ever since the incident, it's been hard to sleep or relax with or without the slime. It's one of the many, many things you've just had to learn to live with over the course of time.

“Still!”

“Look, dude,” you say, awkwardly scratching at the base of your neck with your knuckles, “I'm seriously fine. Just let it go.”

It takes another ten minutes to convince him, and then finally you're sleeping on the loungeplank.


End file.
